


Your Lips Taste Like Sangria

by jdrush



Series: Doing It To Country Songs [2]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: First Date, Humour, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 18:17:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20493167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdrush/pseuds/jdrush
Summary: Modern-day AU--First dates can be awkward, even for the world's greatest lover.  Takes place a week after, "My Eyes Are The Only Thing I Don't Wanna Take Off Of You ", found here:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/19090093





	Your Lips Taste Like Sangria

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMERS: These characters don't belong to me. I made no profit from this story. Title once again comes from a Blake Shelton song, because why mess with a good thing? (I also 'sampled' some dialog and ideas from "Parks and Recreation". Any fans will be able to spot them.)  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments on my first Faraday/Vasquez story. Hope you enjoy this one, too. (I'm sorry if it's a bit self-indulgent--I just wanted to write a happy story for these two idiots.)  
AUTHOR'S NOTES DOS: As before, any Spanish in this story comes courtesy of Google Translate. If it's wrong, please let me know. Lastly, I may have stolen. . .ahhh. . .borrowed parts of Rafe's personality from Manuel Garcia-Rulfo's Instagram. I apologize for that.

*Translations of Spanish in parentheses

It had taken Faraday three days after Emma's wedding to work up the courage to give Rafe a call, convinced that the man had probably programmed the number for Sex Addicts Anonymous or something just as humiliating into his phone--after all, he WAS a friend of Emma's, and that's something she would absolutely do. But no, it was Rafe's actual phone number, and he actually picked up, and he actually wanted to follow through with the date Faraday had half-drunkenly suggested. After a brief conversation, which mostly consisted of asking if Faraday had any food allergies he should know about, he gave his address and said to be there Saturday night at 6:00PM sharp.

Which is how Faraday ended up standing outside the door to a condo on the rich side of town, six-pack of Budweiser in one hand, his other resting against the door next to an artistic hand-made wooden sign reading, 'Bendice esta casa con amor y risas' ('Bless this home with love and laughter') He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and finally knocked.

The door opened, revealing Rafael Vasquez in all his smiling glory. "Hola, Joshua!" he greeted, cheerfully. "Welcome to my home!"

_Holy shit_, Faraday thought, _was it possible he got even hotter in just seven days?_ Wearing white linen slacks and an untucked pink oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, he looked like he had stepped off the pages of "Fashionably Casual" magazine. . .if such a magazine existed. He had left the top two buttons of his shirt undone, exposing a long expanse of tanned neck, decorated by a black-leather choker with a silver medallion resting against the base of his throat. His stupidly handsome face was once again highlighted by the perfect amount of one-day scruff and when Faraday made the mistake of looking down--dear God--no shoes. Even his damn feet were sexy.

_Faraday, my dear boy_, that annoying little voice in his head taunted him, _you are in way over your head._

"Hey," Faraday said, raising his gaze back to Rafe's face, which sported a knowing smirk. No doubt he had caught Faraday obviously checking him out, though to be fair, who the hell wouldn't? Gesturing at Rafe's outfit, then back to his own simple jeans and grey Henley, he chuckled, nervously, "I think I'm under-dressed here."

Slouching gracefully against the door frame, Rafe drawled, "Or over-dressed, depending how the evening plays out."

_Don't blush, don't blush, don't blush_, Faraday reminded himself, but wasn't entirely sure that he succeeded. "I didn't know what kind of wine went with paella so. . ." he held out the beer ". . .I got Buds, because, you know, flowers have buds, or start as buds, and I thought, well, first date, bring flowers, so. . ." He grimaced as the sentence trailed off awkwardly.

_Oh, real smooth, jackass_, the annoying little voice in his head piped up once more.

Rafe, bless his heart, didn't laugh at him or slam the door in his face, both of which he halfway expected at that point. Taking the beer, he gave a smile and said, "I prefer these buds. Gracias." He stepped back and waved Faraday inside. "Come on in."

So Faraday did, stepping through the doorway and into the hall, the mouth-watering aroma of whatever Rafe was cooking filling the air. "Nice place," he noted, even though he couldn't see much of it from where he was standing. "Good neighborhood," he added, hoping to cover up his faux-pas.

Jesus wept, what was WRONG with him? He HATED small talk, which is probably why he was doing such a piss-poor job of it.

Again, if Rafe sensed something was off, he didn't comment, instead disclosing, "I just moved in a few weeks ago. Still not completely settled in yet, but I think I made a good choice." He gestured to a room off to the right. "I'll just put these in the fridge for later. I've actually got something special to go with dinner." As he disappeared into the kitchen, he threw out, "There's a hook by the door for your jacket."

"Okay, yeah, cool."

_'Okay? Yeah? Cool?' You sweet talker you, _the annoying little voice in his head taunted him again, as he took off his jacket and hung it on the hook, almost tripping over a tennis racket that was leaning in the corner. This night was really not off to a good start, and if something didn't change, it'd be over before it even began. Faraday took a deep breath and vowed to pull his shit together, or at the very least, string along enough words to form ONE coherent sentence. After all, it was only a date, right? A date with a guy who could be a fucking runway model, but still. . .

"Oh, and there's a bar in the living room, if you want a drink," Rafe called from the kitchen, breaking into his thoughts.

Fuck yeah, he wanted a drink. That would certainly help with his nerves. But he knew he probably wouldn't stop at one, and he was determined to be on his best behavior tonight. This date was too important to him, and not just because Emma would rake him over the coals if he did something to upset her friend. "Nah, I'm good," he answered, and instead turned his attention to the framed photographs hanging on the walls of the hallway.

The first set were obviously old family pictures, showcasing a much younger Rafe, his parents, and two pretty girls who must be his sisters--Isabella and Gabriela, if he remembered correctly, though he had no idea which was which.

Next to those was one from Rafe's college graduation. He was standing beside Emma and a few other classmates, their hands raised in the air, clinking champagne glasses. From the looks of it, that wasn't the first glass Emma had had that day.

A few other photos showing Rafe posing in exotic locations with handsome men and sexy women made Faraday unreasonably jealous for some reason. . .he didn't spend much time looking at those.

He was studying a photo of a majestic creamy-white mare, which didn't seem to fit in with all the other pictures, when Rafe came out of the kitchen. "Who's this beauty?" Faraday asked, pointing to the horse

Rafe's face lit up, his smile causing crinkles around his eyes and why hadn't Faraday noticed that before now? "Ah, that's my Maria," he declared, proudly.

That startled Faraday. "YOU have a Maria?" he repeated.

"Si. Yes," Rafe replied, giving Faraday a strange look.

"No shit! Me, too!" Faraday exclaimed.

Now it was Rafe's turn to be surprised. "YOU have a horse named Maria?" he asked, incredulously.

"Not a horse, a dog. Wait, I think I have. . . " Faraday reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. A few moments of scrolling and he handed it over, showing a picture of a bright-eyed Beagle pup. "That picture is a couple of months old, but she hasn't gotten much bigger."

Rafe gazed at the screen and grinned. "She's very cute. Not quite the dog I'd imagine you having."

"Well, I actually had a German Shepherd named Jack, but he passed away last year," Faraday explained, keeping it simple because he still found it hard to talk about.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Rafe said, his tone sympathetic as he handed the phone back.

"Thanks. I miss him, but it's okay. We had a lot of good years together." Faraday took a moment to collect himself as he shut down his phone and put it away. "Didn't plan on getting another dog, but my neighbor was moving to Chicago and couldn't take her. I didn't want to see her dropped off at the pound, so I took her in."

"Unexpectedly sweet," Rafe murmured under his breath.

"Huh?"

"Emma said you were unexpectedly sweet."

Faraday shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, even as he felt a warmth in his chest at the compliment. "Hasn't been much of a hardship, really. She's a good companion, if a bit more playful than I'm used to." Nodding at the photo, he asked, "What about your Maria? How did you end up with a horse?"

Slipping his hands into his front pants pockets, Rafe explained, "I've always loved horses, so for my 30th birthday, I bought one for myself."

"Most guys buy a Ford Mustang for their mid-life crisis," Faraday noted, "not an actual Mustang."

Rafe laughed at that. "I'm not most guys."

You can say that again, Faraday thought, but instead commented, "That must've been expensive."

"What good is money if you don't treat yourself every once in a while?" Rafe reached out and adjusted the frame a bit. "She's stabled at a ranch about 20 miles from here. I go up to see her on the weekends. Or if I'm having a bad day. Or if I just feel like seeing her. I'll have to take you for a ride sometime."

_Dammit, was everything this man said innuendo? Well, two could play at that game._ "I'm always up for a good ride," Faraday remarked, wondering if Rafe would pick up that they were talking about two different kinds of riding. From the quick smirk he flashed Faraday's way, he apparently did.

By this point, they had reached the last photos on the wall, featuring some desert landscapes. Remembering that Emma said Rafe was a nature photographer, Faraday asked, "Did you take these?"

"Si," Rafe said, proudly.

"Is that where you grew up?"

For that question, Faraday got an exasperated look and a snarky, "You think all Mexicans live the desert, idiota (idiot)?"

_Fuck it all, Faraday!_ the annoying little voice scolded. _Could you fit more feet in your mouth?!_ "No!" he quickly protested. "It's just. . . I just. . ."

With a laugh, Rafe slapped Faraday on the shoulder. "I'm just joshing you. Hey, I made a little joke there, eh?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah," Faraday chuckled, uneasily, still worried he had offended the other man. "Good one."

The warm hand on his shoulder gave Faraday a friendly squeeze. "Relax, Joshua," Rafe said, gently. "There's no need to be so tense. We're just having dinner, hanging out a bit, getting to know each other. Like right now, I'm learning that you blush easily."

Faraday cringed, feeling his cheeks heating up and knowing that Rafe was telling the truth. "Fuck you," he shot back, though his grin took away any sting the words might have had.

Rafe gave him a wink. "Maybe later, if you ask nicely."

And just like that, the awkwardness was gone. Rafe was right. Tonight was about the two of them spending some time together. If things worked out, great. If they didn't, well. . .better not to dwell too much on that. "So, you didn't grow up in the desert then?" he deadpanned.

That earned him a bark of laughter and another squeeze to his shoulder. "Mexico City, until I was about ten. Then papa's company transferred him to Los Angeles. Spending my formative years in such busy cities might be why I enjoy nature so much. What about you?"

"I didn't grow up in the desert either."

"Sabelotodo, (smart ass)" Rafe said with a good-natured slap to Faraday's shoulder. "Where did you grow up then?"

"Here and there," Faraday answered. "Mom's kind of a free-spirit. We went where the wind took her. She was living in Bangor with a lobster-man last time we talked."

"And your father?"

"I know I had one, but that's all I know. It was always just mom and me, and a series of 'uncles' along the way."

"I'm sorry, Joshua," Rafe said, softly, his hand slipping from Faraday's shoulder. "I didn't mean to pry."

"Don't apologize. You didn't know. And we're supposed to be getting to know each other, right? It's all good." Trying to ease Rafe's discomfort, Faraday gestured to the photos on the wall and asked, "So where were these taken then?"

It worked, as the smile returned to Rafe's face. "The Sonoran Desert, in Arizona. My abuela (grandmother) lived nearby, and we used to visit her when I was a boy. I love it there."

"I can see why. It's strangely beautiful."

"Yes, it is," Rafe agreed. "These pictures were outtakes from my book."

Faraday's head snapped around so fast he almost got whiplash. "You wrote a book?!"

"Not much writing involved," Rafe chuckled, beckoning towards Faraday with his finger. "Come." And if Faraday's mind went to a place where he heard that command in a much different context, no one had to know.

Following Rafe into the living room, Faraday could see the desert influences throughout the home decor, from the pale yellow walls to the Aztec-patterned throw rugs, the rich brown leather and wood furnishings to the deep sunset orange accent pillows, the myriad of Southwestern knickknacks on the bookcase to the large abstract paintings on the walls. Modern and sleek, but also inviting.

Much like the man who lived there, actually.

Rafe took a seat on the sofa and patted at the space next to him, an invitation Faraday eagerly accepted. "You told me you wanted to see my pictures," he said, gesturing to an over-sized photo book resting on the coffee table. "Here they are."

An honest to God fucking book, with Rafe's name splashed across the cover and everything! Jesus Christ! Faraday had known this man was out of his league, but this was ridiculous! What the hell was he doing here, sitting next to this stupidly handsome, obviously successful man? He was just an ordinary schmuck with an ordinary job, a dog that was barely housebroken, five maxed out credit cards, and a ten-year old pick-up truck that still had 32 more payments.

Emma was right. Rafael Vasquez was far too good for him.

He was just thinking about running out of that condo with his proverbial tail between his legs when a buzzer rang from the kitchen. Rafe gave him a small apologetic smile as he stood up. "I just have to go check on dinner. You can. . ." he waved at the book before heading off towards the kitchen.

Well, it couldn't hurt to look, right? After all, that was one of the reasons he was here--to see Rafe's pictures. Besides, it would be cowardly to run out when the poor guy's back was turned, especially after he went through all the trouble of making dinner for the two of them. Plus, Emma would rip him a new one if he treated one of her friends like that.

With a deep, resigned sigh, Faraday flipped open the front cover.

He couldn't say how long he had been looking at the book--no more than a few minutes at any rate--when Rafe walked back in the room, wiping his wet hands on a small dish towel. "It shouldn't be too much longer now," he announced.

"Uh-huh," Faraday replied, distractedly, as he turned the page.

A minute passed in silence, then another until a soft, polite cough pulled his attention away from the book. Rafe was standing there, twisting the towel between his hands. "So, um. . .what do you think?" And for perhaps the first time since Faraday met him, he sounded uncertain, maybe a bit shy, and wow, that was such a damn relief.

The guy was human after all.

Faraday contemplated teasing him or making him wait a bit and stew, but that just seemed cruel. It was obvious how important his work was to him, and for whatever reason, he cared what Faraday thought about it. "I think that you're a fucking artist," he said, honestly.

"Really?" Rafe asked, seemingly surprised.

"I mean, I don't know much about photography and such--I can barely take a half-way decent selfie--but these," fanning through the pages, "are amazing. I never knew a desert could be so colourful and alive. It makes me want to go there."

Rafe just beamed at the compliment, one of those sun-bright smiles that Faraday knew he'd never get tired of seeing. "Gracias, Joshua," he said, genuinely touched by the simple praise. "It's been a passion of mine for a long time. When the opportunity came up to combine my two loves, I jumped at it. I've had many other assignments over the years, but this is the one I'm most proud of."

"As you should be." Closing the book carefully, Faraday placed it back on the coffee table. "And how does your music compare to this?" addressing one of the other reasons he was there.

"Definitely not as good," Rafe laughed, "but I still enjoy it. This way."

A short walk down the hall brought them to a small home-studio, containing a rack of guitars, an amplifier, a mic stand, and a very high-tech computer system. "This is it," Rafe proclaimed, with a wave of his arm. "It's not much, but it's only a hobby, after all."

Faraday just scoffed, busy as he was examining the line of guitars. "Not much, he says. Are you kidding me? This is a kick-ass collection." He stopped at one guitar in particular. "A bourbon-burst Gibson Les Paul Standard? Damn! I've always wanted one of these. You are a man of distinction."

"You play?" Rafe asked, curiously, selecting a cherry-red Fender Stratocaster and taking a seat near the amplifier.

"Yeah, not for a while now," Faraday replied, watching as Rafe turned down the volume on the guitar before plugging in the cord. "Had a band in college, but we weren't very good."

"Really?" Rafe's voice was muffled as he leaned over to plug the cord into the amplifier. "What was the name?"

" 'Baby in a Straight Jacket'."

"Interesting name," Rafe commented, as he sat back up straight. "Political statement?"

"Jell-O shots," Faraday corrected, sheepishly. "Not one of my smartest decisions."

Rafe snickered at that. "You don't say." He took a moment to flip on the amp and turn up the volume. "What did you play?"

"Classic rock. The Eagles. Steve Miller. A lot of Bob Seger."

"Good stuff." Rafe gave the strings an experimental strum. Satisfied he had everything in tune, he grabbed a pick and began playing.

"Well, it fit my vocal range, so. . ." The rest of the sentence tapered off as Faraday listened to the notes; it took only a couple of moments for him to recognize the intro to Pink Floyd's 'Shine On You Crazy Diamond'.

Oh, man, he was SO out of his league.

Most of his concentration taken up with his playing, Rafe could only manage a surprised, "You sing?"

"Yeah, I'm not half-bad, actually," Faraday told him, a bit proud, a bit defensive. "Though these days my shower is my only audience."

Rafe looked up at that and gave a playful grin. "I'll be your audience, guero."

There was that word again. Guero. Faraday had asked Rafe about it during their phone call, having Googled it and discovering it didn't mean 'handsome' after all. Rafe had explained it was just a pet name, but he'd stop using it if it made Faraday unhappy. Since Faraday couldn't remember ever having a pet name before, he stayed quiet.

And besides, it didn't NOT mean handsome, right?

Returning the smile, Faraday said, "Well, I'm a bit rusty, but I'll give it a try."

Rafe's grin got a little wider. "Bueno (good)."

For the next few minutes, Faraday enjoyed the show, watching Rafe's strong, skillful hands caress the strings, his fingers plucking out the heartfelt, bluesy music, and wondered distantly if he'd play Faraday's body as masterfully as he played that guitar. As the song came to an end, he started clapping, throwing in an enthusiastic, "Whoo-hoo!" for good measure. "Wow, that was great!"

A shy laugh greeted that statement, as two pink spots bloomed on Rafe's face. "I don't know about that. I'm still a bit shaky, but it's one of my favourite pieces, so I had to give it a try."

"Dude, that is NOT an easy solo. I'm truly impressed."

With a dip of his head, Rafe uttered a soft, "Gracias." Casually playing a few random notes, he added, "You're very brave by the way."

"What for?"

"Singing in public," Rafe clarified, picking up the thread of their conversation. "It takes a lot of courage to share something so personal. I haven't even worked up the nerve to record my voice, forget about letting anyone else hear it."

"You should. It's a good voice," Faraday insisted. "Rich, smoky. Very pleasant to the ears."

Rafe stopped playing and gave him a curious look before replying, "That's kind of you to say."

Suddenly realizing what he had just said, Faraday mumbled an embarrassed, "Just stating a fact, is all."

The raised eyebrow said Rafe wasn't buying what Faraday was selling. "Perhaps we can play together after dinner?"

Ah. More of that sly innuendo Faraday was quickly coming to associate with Rafael Vasquez. Before he had a chance to think up his own flirtatious response, the timer buzzed again. "And speaking of dinner. . ." Rafe said, as he powered off his amp, unplugged his guitar, and placed it back on the rack before heading out of the room, this time with Faraday on his heels.

When Faraday entered the kitchen, Rafe was just adding a bowl of previously cooked shrimp and shellfish to a pot of yellow rice on the stove. Pointing at the fridge with his stirring spoon, he told Faraday, "Just have to heat these through, if you want to grab the pitcher of sangria for me."

"Hope it tastes as good as it smells," Faraday commented.

Rafe just gave him grin and a playful wink. "I haven't had any complaints yet."

_I'm sure you haven't,_ Faraday thought, enviously, as he opened the refrigerator door.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Rafe's boasting hadn't been just empty words, as Faraday quickly discovered when he took his first bite of the paella and let out a loud moan.

"Good?" Rafe laughed, digging out a mussel from his bowl.

"Marry me," Faraday sighed happily, as he took another big mouthful of rice. It was a couple of seconds before his brain caught up with his mouth and registered what he had said. Swallowing his food, he stammered, "Uh, I didn't mean that."

Rafe just gave him a big grin. "Don't think anyone has ever proposed to me on a first date," he said, popping the shelled mussel into his mouth.

"They obviously have never had this dish before."

"Glad you like it."

"Major understatement," Faraday corrected him, peeling a perfectly cooked jumbo shrimp. "This is incredible! What makes the rice taste like that?"

"Saffron," Rafe replied, spearing a chunk of chorizo. "You just need enough to compliment the seafood."

"Mission accomplished," Faraday declared, biting into his shrimp. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"My last girlfriend--she wasn't so good in the kitchen. I figured if I didn't want to live on frozen dinners, I had to do it myself. Turned out I had a knack for it."

_Like photography and music and kissing,_ Faraday thought. _Was there anything this guy WASN'T good at?_ "Girlfriend?" he asked, as he sliced off a piece of French bread from the loaf sitting at the center of the table, hoping he didn't sound as jealous as he felt.

"LAST girlfriend," Rafe clarified, reaching over and slicing some bread for himself. "That was five years and three relationships ago. I move around a lot. It's hard to keep anything going long-term."

"So just guys since then? Her bad cooking turned you off women?" Faraday joked.

It was a few seconds before Rafe responded, busy as he was sopping up the sauce in his bowl with the bread. "Not by design, just the way it's worked out. With my job, I tend to meet more men than women. But they're moving around a lot, too." He shook his head and gave a melancholy sigh. "Things never seem to last."

Faraday took a drink of his sangria before asking, "Ever want to settle down?"

Rafe just shrugged at that. "I've thought of it, but I haven't met the right person yet."

"Oh, and who's that?"

"Someone who makes me laugh. Easy to talk to. Treats me well. Makes me crazy in a good way."

"Rich? Famous? Good-looking?" Faraday suggested.

"Nah. None of that is important. Although a good kisser would be a plus." Rafe paused for a moment to eat a bite of food before adding, "Know anyone like that?"

_Sitting right here,_ Faraday thought, but said instead, "Don't I wish?" Figuring it'd be a good idea to get off this topic, he remarked, "I noticed an easel in your studio. Do you paint?"

"If you can call it that," Rafe answered. "Nothing serious. Just for my own amusement."

Faraday pondered that for a moment before asking, "Those paintings in the living room. . .?

Rafe raised his hand. "Guilty."

"A regular Renaissance man, huh?" Faraday commented, draining his glass. Should he have another? On one hand, he didn't want Rafe to think he was a lush (thanks, Emma), but on the other hand, it was really delicious. Rafe made the decision for him by pouring out another glass, before topping off his own. "Thanks."

"De nada." ("You're welcome.")

Digging out another shrimp from his dish, Faraday implored, "Please don't tell me you write poetry, too."

"Not write, no, but I do read it."

Faraday just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Of course you do." Taking a bite of his shrimp he muttered, "Where do you find the time?"

"Have to do something to stay out of trouble." Pointing at Faraday with the rest of his bread, he added a teasing, "You should give it a try."

This time Faraday DID roll his eyes. "You've been talking to Emma," he groused.

"Por supuesto." (of course)

Perfect. Just perfect. Who knew what that harpy had been saying about him behind his back? "Don't listen to a word she says," Faraday cautioned.

"Actually, she had some nice things to say about you," Rafe revealed.

"Then you weren't talking to Emma," Faraday snarked, causing Rafe to snort. Those two were definitely peas in a pod, which made Faraday curious. Tossing the rest of his shrimp in his mouth, he asked, "How did you two meet, anyway?"

A playful grin crossed Rafe's face. "Would you believe it if I told you she posed nude for me?"

Faraday, who was scooping up bit of rice, dropped his fork into his bowl. Giving Rafe an exaggerated scandalized look, he exclaimed, "NO!"

Scraping up the last bits from his bowl with another slice of bread, Rafe just chuckled. "Yes, yes she did." Taking a bite of the bread, he added, "But it's not what you're thinking."

"You don't know what I'm thinking," Faraday argued, as he wiped down his fork with a napkin.

"I'm pretty sure I do, and you're wrong." Rafe took a moment to polish off his bread before he continued, "It was an assignment for one of my photography classes. 'Classic Nudes in the Modern Age' (said with air-quotes) or something pretentious like that. Anyway, I needed a model and she responded to one of the fliers I hung around campus. And no, you can't see them."

Faraday scrunched up his nose. "Wouldn't want to. I have to work with her, remember? That could get awkward." Digging back into his dish with his clean fork, he added, "So you didn't know her?"

Rafe shook his head, even as he spooned another healthy helping of paella from the colourful tureen on the table into his bowl. "Nope. Never even saw her before that day."

As he watched Rafe slice off yet another piece of bread, Faraday could only marvel at the amount of food his companion was putting away. He was chowing down like he hadn't eaten in a week. How the hell did he stay so fit? Life just wasn't fair. "So she just woke up one morning and decided to pose nude for some strange guy?" he quipped. "What a little rebel."

"Si, si," Rafe snickered. "And I'm glad she did. I got an 'A' on the project, and a great friend out of the deal. Hey, maybe someday you'll pose for me, eh?"

Faraday just scoffed at that. "Yeah, not really my thing. So did you two ever. . .?" He waggled his hand and his eyebrows in a very suggestive manner.

Pointing at Faraday with his fork, Rafe scolded, "See, I knew that's what you thinking."

"You didn't answer my question," Faraday noted, taking a sip of his sangria.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I know you'll just keep asking until I say something, no, we never. . ." Rafe mirrored Faraday's waggling hand and eyebrow motions. "We went out on a couple of dates, but decided we worked better as friends." Picking up his wine glass, he asked, "What about you? How'd you meet her?"

"Cleaning porn from her computer."

It was probably a good thing Rafe hadn't actually been drinking at that moment because it would have been a spectacular spit-take. As it was, he stared at Faraday with big round eyes and gasped an appalled, "WHAT?!"

Faraday busted out laughing at his reaction. "Sorry. Just kidding. I couldn't help myself."

"Cabrón, (bastard)" Rafe chuckled, taking a sip from his glass.

"Hey, I know that one!" Faraday exclaimed.

"Congratulations. You get a gold star." Turning back to his meal, Rafe asked, "So how did you really meet?"

"Well, it DID have to do with her computer, that part is true," Faraday said. "I work in the IT department at the firm, and one day she managed to delete some important presentation she needed to give that afternoon. She called in a panic looking for Red, but he had the day off, so I went instead. It only took a few minutes. I just performed some awesome high-tech magic, retrieved the files and rescued the damsel in distress. We've been friends ever since."

"Even so, she'd still kick your ass six ways from Sunday if she ever heard you call her a 'damsel in distress'," Rafe pointed out.

Faraday held up his glass. "That'll be our little secret, 'kay?" he said, giving a conspiratorial wink.

With a grin and a shake of his head, Rafe picked up his glass and clinked it against Faraday's. " 'Kay," he agreed before taking a sip, Faraday joining in.

As he placed his glass back on the table, Faraday divulged, "Actually, that's not the only kind of magic I can do."

"So I've heard, Mr. World's Greatest Lover," Rafe said, his eyes filled with mischief.

Faraday's lower jaw almost hit the floor. "Where did you hear that?" he demanded.

"Goodnight. He told me all about last New Year's Eve."

Faraday cringed at the memory, or at least what he could remember of it: a company party, champagne flowing like water, a pretty little intern he was trying to impress and a karaoke machine that he shouldn't have been allowed anywhere near, but his friends were assholes, so of course they had only encouraged him. "Oh, for fuck's sake! I was drunk when I said that and he knows it. Wait! You know Goody?"

Rafe nodded. "I met him at the wedding and we hit it off."

_"Of course you did, you charming asshole,"_ Faraday thought.

"We're Facebook buddies now," Rafe continued, as he picked up the pitcher of sangria and refilled both glasses. "He's a fountain of information where you're concerned."

"He's a gossiping old hen is what he is," Faraday grumbled.

Replacing the pitcher on the table, Rafe teased, "Has anyone ever told you you're cute when you're angry."

"I'm not angry," Faraday argued. "And I'm not cute."

"I beg to differ on both those counts."

Faraday glared at him. "Keep that up and I'm not going to show you my magic trick."

Rafe pressed his hand to his heart and gave Faraday a guileless look Josh didn't believe for one minute. "Lo siento, mi querido. (I'm sorry, my dear.) Show me your trick. Por favor. (please). I'd really like to see it."

"Well-l-l. . ." Faraday hedged, pretending to think it over.

Crossing his arms on the table, Rafe leaned forward. He held Faraday's gaze as he whispered a husky, "I can beg, if you want me to."

Faraday barely swallowed down the groan those words caused, and by the smirk on Rafe's face, the bastard knew it. Remembering their exchange from earlier in the night, Faraday replied with a smooth, "Maybe later," as he expertly 'pulled' a coin from the other man's ear.

That got a big laugh out of Rafe. "Not bad, guero!"

"Thanks." Rolling the coin easily across his knuckles, Faraday explained, "It's not hard, just some simple slight of hand. Works well in bars--conning drinks, winning bets. . ."

"Hitting on someone?" Rafe tossed in.

"Occasionally." Faraday flipped the coin into the air, caught it and slipped it back into his pants pocket. "If I had my cards, I could show you some of my better tricks."

"I might have a deck lying around," Rafe told him, adding with a flirty grin, "I'd like to see what else those magical hands can do."

Flashing his own flirty grin, Faraday fired back, "I think that can be arranged."

"Bien. (all right) " And with that, Rafe dug back into his dinner.

They spent the next hour finishing their meals and the sangria, and laughing. A lot. Rafe was a cheerful guy with a great sense of humour that Faraday was more than happy to help feed. He found he had quickly become addicted to Rafe's laughter, and did his best to hear more of it. Their date might have started shaky, but it seemed they were finally hitting their groove.

"I think I'm ready for dessert," Rafe announced, as he stood from the table and began cleaning up the dishes. "How about you?"

Faraday, who felt like he was about to burst--and knowing Rafe had eaten twice as much as he had--just gaped at his host. "How the hell do you have room for dessert?"

Rafe gave him a look that clearly said that was a stupid question. "There's always room for dessert. I've got tres leches cake, or ice cream, if you prefer.

"You baked a cake?" Faraday didn't know why he sounded surprised. Nothing Rafe did should surprise him anymore.

"Uh-huh. My mother's secret recipe."

"Really?"

"No, not really,” Rafe said with a laugh as he headed to the kitchen. "I can cook but I can't bake to save my life. There's a great little bakery just down the street, though." Faraday was still processing the idea that he had FINALLY discovered something Rafe wasn't good at when the man added, "You know, I've never cooked on the first date before. Guess that makes you special, eh?"

Faraday, who had picked up the glasses and empty pitcher and followed him into the kitchen, asked, "Why?"

"Hmmm?" Rafe hummed distractedly as he began rinsing off the plates and placing them in the dishwasher.

Setting the glasses on the counter, Faraday clarified, "Why am I special?"

Turning away from the sink to look at Faraday, Rafe teased, "You fishing for compliments, guero?"

Faraday just shrugged, hoping like hell he wouldn't start blushing again. "Isn't everyone?" But it wasn't really compliments Faraday was after. He was just honestly curious why a man as amazing as Rafael Vasquez would want to spend time with a screw-up like him. After all, Emma had gone out of her way to point out some of his many character flaws. Rafe HAD to have known what he was getting into, right?

Picking up one of the glasses and running it under the water, Rafe replied, "Well, I could lie and say it was your good looks or your charming personality or your conversation. . ."

"Lie?!" Faraday exclaimed in mock-outrage.

Placing that glass on a towel and rinsing the other one, Rafe continued as if Faraday hadn't spoken, "But the truth is when we were in that coat-room, you gave up a guaranteed 'sure thing'--a damn good 'sure thing', I might add-- because you told me you'd rather see my photographs." Shutting off the water and turning back to Faraday, Rafe smiled, softly. "That was probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me and I wanted to get to know the man who would do that."

Faraday wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. How could anyone who met Rafe not want to spend time with him and learn everything about him? Would prefer a quick roll in the hay to seeing his eyes light up with joy as he talked about his work and his music and his horse? Would give up the chance to spend a whole night enjoying his bright smile and brighter laughter? Were people really that dumb?

And everyone said FARADAY was an idiot.

"So. . .you decided that a man who turned down your sexual advances deserved a home-cooked dinner?" Faraday said, bemused.

"Si."

"And dessert."

"What's dinner without dessert?"

Not sure if that was more of Rafe's patented innuendo or just a personal motto, Faraday chose to ask, "What exactly is tres leches cake?"

Rafe just grinned widely. "You're going to love it."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After coffee and dessert, (which, yes, Faraday did in fact love) Rafe pressed an old deck of cards into Faraday's hand. For the next half hour, Faraday performed some of his flashier tricks, which delighted Rafe to no end. From there, they headed back to the studio to jam for a while. Faraday was dismayed to discover he was more out of practice than he expected, though truthfully, even at the top of his game, Rafe's skills were far superior to his. But they had some laughs, and Faraday sang a few songs, and Rafe let him play the Les Paul, so it was all good.

It was close to 11:00 when Faraday decided to call it a night, not wanting to push his luck and overstay his welcome. "Are you going to be okay to drive?" Rafe asked as they walked to the door. "We did go a bit heavy on the sangria earlier."

"Yeah, I’m fine," Faraday replied, slipping on his jacket. "I'd say something if I wasn't."

"Because the sofa's free if you want," Rafe offered.

Faraday just laughed. "Rafe, if I don't go now, I'm not leaving." He hoped it sounded like he was joking, although he wasn't entirely sure he was.

"Not a problem." With that, Rafe hooked his finger into the V of Faraday's shirt and reeled him in, licking into his mouth like he belonged there.

_Dear fuck, does this man know how to kiss,_ Faraday thought before his brain went off-line. His hands slipped over slender hips as Rafe's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling bodies flush, leaving Faraday buzzing, and wondering if he was perhaps drunker than he initially said.

It'd be easy, so fucking easy, to fall into this man's arms, and his bed, and just drown in kisses as sweet and tangy as the Spanish wine they imbibed with dinner. One night he'd always remember. One night he'd always regret.

A smart gambler knows when to take his winnings and walk away, but Faraday had never been accused of being smart, so before he could second-guess himself, he gently broke the kiss and resolutely pulled away.

Rafe banged his forehead against Faraday's shoulder with a frustrated groan. "Maldición. (damn it) Do you always play so hard to get?"

"What do you mean?"

Standing upright and backing away, Rafe spelled it out. "That's the second time you've rebuffed me. Am I doing something wrong?"

"God, no!" Faraday exclaimed. "You're. . ." _Fucking perfect_, he thought and barely refrained from saying, "a great guy."

"Then why do you keep pushing me away?" Rafe sounded a little annoyed and a little hurt and maybe a little sad which made Faraday feel like a world-class asshole.

"It's not you, Rafe," Faraday began, but Rafe just rolled his eyes.

"Mio dios (my god) , not the 'it's not you it's me' speech," he grumbled.

"No, it's not that," Faraday insisted. "I'm just not good with. . ." he waved his hand between the two of them, "well, with all this."

"This?" Rafe repeated. "You mean dating?"

"Yeah."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Rafe glared at Faraday and pointed out, "If I recall, you're the one who wanted to go on a date in the first place."

This was it. Time to lay all his cards on the table and hope he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life. Ignoring the annoying little voice that was screaming. _Don't do it! Don't do it! _ Faraday began, "I know and I'm glad we did. I had a great time and I hope you did, too, but I have to be honest with you, Rafe. I don't do relationships. I'm more of a 'one-night, thanks it was fun' kind of guy. Two nights if I'm lucky, which is a big reason why I'm single."

"Joshua. . ." Rafe tried, but Faraday cut him off before he could say anymore.

"But you're not like anyone I've ever met, Rafe, and I'm afraid if we just fuck, that'll be the end of it. One and done, just like all the other times and I don't want that to happen." Ducking his head, he added with a mirthless chuckle, "I wanted to do it right for once, but it seems I'm fucking it up anyway."

A moment later, Faraday was surprised to feel large hands tenderly cupping his cheeks, urging him to look up. "Oh, guero," Rafe murmured with a fond smile, "you are just full of surprises."

Faraday's brow wrinkled in confusion. "I am?"

"Si. And you haven't fucked anything up. I'm the one who keeps pushing you." Faraday wanted to protest--he had never felt any pressure from Rafe to do anything he was uncomfortable with-- but a small shake of Rafe's head stopped him. "It's true, mijo (hon) . My job makes everything in my life feel fleeting, so I’ve learned to move quickly before it disappears. The lighting for a perfect shot. A person whose company I enjoy. I never know how long it'll last, so I try to grab it before it's gone."

"I'm not going any place," Faraday stated, confidently.

"I can see that now." A thumb gently brushed over Faraday's cheek. "Maybe it's time to take a step back, go a bit slower for a change." Lips replaced the thumb, a faint pressing of skin-on-skin.

Faraday felt his heart pounding in his chest at those words, but did his best to hide it. "So, ahhh, does that mean you wanna do this again?"

"Sure," Rafe agreed, readily, running his hands down Faraday's face and over his broad shoulders. "What are you going to make?"

"Make?" Faraday asked, puzzled.

"Well, I cooked for you so it's your turn now," Rafe said, mischief once again dancing in his dark eyes. "Give me a chance to see where you live, poke around your apartment, get to meet your Maria."

That got a loud belly laugh out of Faraday. "Are you shitting me? I can't cook like you."

"It doesn't have to be anything special," Rafe assured him. "I'm not fussy. And your cooking can't be worse than Maddie's. Trust me."

Faraday thought for a moment before responding, "Well, I make damn good chili, if you don't mind spicy."

"I like it spicy." The sly innuendo was expected. In fact, Faraday would have been disappointed if Rafe hadn't thrown it in.

"Lucky me. When?" And if it came out sounding eager, Faraday didn't care. Rafe wanted to see him again. That's all that mattered.

"I'm flying out to New York on Monday for some meetings with my editor, but I'll be back by next Saturday, if that works for you."

"Yeah, that'll be great," Faraday said, leaning in for a quick good-bye kiss. Then another. "Okay, I'm going." _Three time's a charm, right?_ "That's it. Just. . ." _One more won't hurt._ "Right. I'm gone." He turned to leave, but couldn't resist turning back to get one last look at Rafe's stupidly handsome face. Shaking his head sadly, he muttered, "God, I really am an idiot, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are." Wrapping one hand behind Faraday's neck, Rafe pulled him in for one final kiss. "You better be worth all this trouble, guerito (darling)."

"Of course I am," Faraday declared, giving a playful wink. "I'm the world's greatest lover, remember?" And with that, he spun on his heel and made his exit, Rafe's laughter following him all the way back to his truck.

THE END


End file.
